


gold mine

by thunderylee



Category: A.B.C.-Z, Snow Man (Japanese Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Exhibitionism, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, drunk fooling around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Hasshi notices Iwamoto’s new earring.





	gold mine

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for kink bingo (wildcard: piercings).

Hasshi still doesn’t feel like he’s old enough to drink, despite being bigger than most of the guys at this party who are older than him. That’s probably why he holds his liquor so well at less than six months legal; that, and the rest of his group has been showering him with shots of every liquor under the sun since the day he turned twenty. He supposes he just built up his tolerance faster than most.

Unlike Iwamoto, who’s so drunk that he hasn’t moved for twenty minutes, draped across Goseki’s loveseat like he had been posed there by a photographer and grinning at everything going on around him. Hasshi doubts that Iwamoto can even see who is doing what with as squinted as his eyes are, but then something catches Hasshi’s attention and reminds him that he’s not sober either as he almost trips over himself to get a closer look.

“I didn’t know you got your ear pierced again,” he says, only slurring a little bit as he leans over the edge of the loveseat, bracing himself on the arm. “Am I really wasted or are there four of them now?”

“Hasshi!” Iwamoto slurs, grinning even bigger as he recognizes Hasshi’s voice. “There are four. Daichan got a piercing kit so I let him do my conch.”

Hasshi blinks as he sees one of the gold studs more towards the inside of Iwamoto’s left ear. “Did it hurt?”

“Nah.” Iwamoto stretches out like he’s going to scoot over to make room for Hasshi, but he doesn’t get very far. “It felt good, actually.”

“Yeah?” Hasshi asks, more aware of his eyebrows rising than he should be. That’s a lot of information to share, at least for people outside of his tight-knit group.

“Yeah, it was like…” Iwamoto trails off, shifting around like he needs to move to think. “Pain and pleasure together, you know? I mean, it didn’t even really hurt, just this dull ache afterward that made everything feel…nice.”

Hasshi just nods while his friend babbles, processing most of the words while watching the gold stud shine in the dim light from Goseki’s lava lamp. “Does it still feel that way?”

“It’s a little sensitive, yeah,” Iwamoto answers, lolling his head to the other side so Hasshi gets a better view. “You could probably touch it and it would be okay.”

It sounds like a challenge, but when Hasshi leans over to do exactly that, he loses his balance and falls right onto the loveseat, his fall cushioned by sharp angles and curly hair. “Shit, sorry.”

Iwamoto makes a deflated noise as Hasshi tries to scramble off of him, but that just seems to make it worse. Defeated, Hasshi curls up the best he can, finding his face in Iwamoto’s sweater that smells like a mixture of laundry detergent and cologne.

“Hi,” Iwamoto says, the bass of his voice vibrating Hasshi through his body, and Hasshi doesn’t do a very good job of hiding his shiver. “You’re warm.”

“I’m drunk,” Hasshi replies, followed by a laugh that he can’t really control, but that’s okay because Iwamoto laughs with him. “I didn’t think I was that bad, but then I came over here.”

“Am I that intoxicating?” Iwamoto jokes, but Hasshi just climbs up his arm to get closer to his ear. “ _Ah_ , Hasshi.”

“What?” Hasshi asks, keeping his voice down because Iwamoto’s ear is _right there_.

Iwamoto sputters a bit before answering, and Hasshi’s starting to think that his weight is crushing the other man until he hears, “Your breath feels good.”

That has Hasshi blowing on purpose now, because he’s even more of a brat under the influence and he really likes the way Iwamoto squirms beneath him. It’s almost like Iwamoto is trying to escape, except he has a tight grip on Hasshi’s arm that makes it clear he wants Hasshi to stay right where he is.

Which is good, because Hasshi doesn’t think he can move right now. At least anymore than flinging his arm across Iwamoto’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with frantic breaths that would likely be concerning if Hasshi didn’t know better. As it is, he’s struggling to maintain his own breathing, his heart pounding at Iwamoto’s shameless enjoyment of his teasing. Alcohol-clouded mind or not, it’s _hot_.

“Hii-kun,” he whispers, feeling Iwamoto shudder even more, almost violently. “I like your new piercing.”

Iwamoto opens his mouth to reply, but then Hasshi’s leaning in to lick the middle gold stud and all that comes out is a strangled moan. Iwamoto arches so sharply that he nearly lifts up Hasshi with him, his hand falling from Hasshi’s arm to his thigh. Likely from gravity, not any ulterior motive, but once Iwamoto realizes it’s there, he spreads his fingers and feels around.

It’s far from indecent, closer to the knee than anywhere else, but it may as well have been down his pants with how Hasshi reacts, pressing closer to Iwamoto’s thin frame and flicking the earring with his tongue. His fingers find the fabric of Iwamoto’s sweater, getting lost in the softness until he figures out how to get under it and feels the warmth of Iwamoto’s skin, the firmness of his abdominal muscles.

“Hasshi,” Iwamoto says, his voice even deeper, and Hasshi shivers again. “There are people here.”

“Let them watch,” Hasshi replies, smirking at how Iwamoto falls apart all over again from the words spoken into his ear. His hand travels up Iwamoto’s ribcage to his nipple, gently pinching it to a peak while Iwamoto chokes on his air. “Our clothes are still on, anyway.”

“But I want them off,” Iwamoto protests, sounding like it takes a lot of effort to speak under Hasshi’s double attack. The meaning of those words takes a second to formulate in Hasshi’s brain, but when it does he lets out a low groan of approval, suddenly aware of how heavy his T-shirt and jeans are.

“Do we need to be alone for that?” Hasshi asks. “Because the chances of me actually getting up are about zero.”

“Same.” Iwamoto turns his head, bumping Hasshi’s nose with his own. “Eh, it’s just our groups.”

Their lips find each other and Hasshi might hear some catcalls in the distance, but he’s not paying them any attention. It’s really only a few of them since the majority are deeply involved in some video game tournament on Goseki’s floor. Hasshi could give a fuck if they were on stage, though; at this point, all he wants is Iwamoto, just like this, tasting his lips and feeling his skin, everyone else be damned.

Iwamoto’s kiss is almost as intoxicating as the shots with which Hasshi had drank Kawai under the table earlier. He kisses like he dances, on point and sensual, his own drunkenness just keeping it slow. Hasshi forgets everything but Iwamoto’s mouth and the flesh that quivers under his touch, both of their bodies gradually relocating until they’re facing each other, Hasshi halfway across Iwamoto’s lap with both of their legs dangling off the end. It lines them up a little too well and Hasshi cries out at the sudden stimulation, hips rocking forward on their own while those talented piano-playing fingers drop to grab his ass.

“Fuck,” Iwamoto hisses against his lips, and Hasshi gasps at the feeling of something hard against his thigh. His hand is still up Iwamoto’s sweater, but it quickly lowers over the rippled muscles of Iwamoto’s abs and further down, feeling the bump for himself and swallowing Iwamoto’s noises that tickle his tongue as their kiss deepens.

The temperature soars and Hasshi wants nothing more than to yank his shirt over his head, nearly suffocating from the heat, but he can’t coordinate his limbs that well and he’d probably strangle himself if he tried. Iwamoto’s not that much better off, being as it takes him several tries to actually grope Hasshi properly once he detaches his hand from Hasshi’s ass. Once he’s got Hasshi in his grip, though, he squeezes so hard that Hasshi’s moan erupts from nowhere, surprising himself as he pushes into the touch.

Hasshi manages to open Iwamoto’s pants, but that’s as far as he gets since Iwamoto arches right out of their kiss, biting on his lip to hold back whatever undoubtedly loud noise he wants to make. He couldn’t be any louder than those guys yelling at the TV, anyway, but Hasshi isn’t worried about that as he presses his forehead to Iwamoto’s shoulder and sneaks his other hand down to unbutton his own jeans. It’s awkward and complicated, but worth the effort when those fingers are around him, stroking him firmly while Iwamoto hardens even more in Hasshi’s grip.

The collar of Iwamoto’s sweater is stretched enough for Hasshi to mouth at his collarbone, lifting his head enough to continue up Iwamoto’s throat and jaw. He feels Iwamoto start to tremble beneath him and knows that it’s not going to take long for either one of them, his own breath staggering as Iwamoto pulls him off. He makes it back to Iwamoto’s ear, licking that earring once more and Iwamoto jerks sharply beneath him, letting out a soft noise as he spills over Hasshi’s fingers.

“Don’t stop,” Hasshi whimpers into Iwamoto’s ear, clinging to the other man now that his work is done. “I’m so close.”

Iwamoto moves his hand faster, a little steadier than before, and Hasshi buries his face into Iwamoto’s neck to muffle his moans as he comes. He’s still shaking even after he comes down, his orgasm mixing with the alcohol to leave him even less coherent than before.

Then something smacks him in the back of the head, and Iwamoto snorts as he reaches for it. “Tsuka-chan tossed us tissues,” he informs Hasshi.

Hasshi just smiles as he curls up on top of Iwamoto like he’s much smaller than he actually is. “They’re so good to me.”


End file.
